


Bilbo Baggins and the Goblet of Fire

by WerewulfTherewulf



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dragons, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Other tags to be added, Violence, and WEREWOLVES, kid!Fíli, kid!Kíli, little bit of romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewulfTherewulf/pseuds/WerewulfTherewulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins, young hobbit wizard, is just about to enter his final year at Rosewater Academy of Young Hobbit Wizards. He is both hoping and expecting it to go the same exact way that it had gone for every single year previously-- plain and boring. He should have known better. He is pulled into an adventure he never expected and along the way makes new friends, enemies, and might even help save the world by the end of it. Everything he had ever known would never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It was almost pitch dark outside, Bilbo immediately realized. He could barely see the hand in front of his face, let alone the vast fields before him. After a time, his eyes finally adjusted, and Bilbo was able to see what stood right before him. A cabin was there, run down and as shabby as could be. There were holes in the roof, and the floorboards on the porch were rising up in multiple places. The windows were boarded up, and it looked wholly abandoned. … Except for the clouds of smoke rising from the decrepit old chimney. Surveying his surroundings, Bilbo saw that this cabin was the only thing in the great plains where he stood.

Everything in Bilbo's senses told him that he should turn right around and go home. Bilbo looked around again. He had no idea where he was! His Took side was what made him glance back at the cabin, and the smokestacks. Before Bilbo knew it, he was taking a step towards the old shack, and then another, and another, and another, until finally he stood right there on the porch, hand raised to knock on the door.

The door though, was lying on the ground to the left of him. Unsure, Bilbo slowly peered in. He was very surprised to find that the cabin was occupied, though he supposed he shouldn't have been because of the very obvious lit fireplace. There were two men standing in front of the fireplace, and a little ways behind them was a woman. None of them seemed to notice Bilbo.

Bilbo scanned the area, and jumped back and threw a hand to cover his horrified gasp. There was a man laying there on the ground by their feet. He had a large knife sticking out of one of his eyes, and blood was pooled beneath him. Next to him was a woman, her throat slit, with just as much blood surrounding her. Bilbo was choking on his own breath in horror as he stared at them, when one of the men by the fireplace began talking. Bilbo's gaze shot up to him, noticing he was much younger than the other two.

“Neither of them had the ring,”

The other man, his arms crossed behind his back, turned to look at his companion.

“Obviously not.” he growled. The woman behind them spoke up next.

“M'Lord. I will go and search for it. It has to be here, you felt its presence so strongly,” she stated. Without a moment's hesitation, she morphed into a spider-- a _huge_ spider. Bilbo was horrified. She was an _Animagus!_

Their leader held out a hand to stop her before she went anywhere. “That is quite unnecessary, Ungoliant. You are right, it is here. Except, it is not in the hands of who we thought,” he turned to the younger man expectantly. “Sauron?”

Sauron was looking at the ground as if in thought. Then, sharply, he looked up. For a brief moment it was at nothing, but then, before Bilbo knew it, Sauron was staring straight at him. He pointed at Bilbo sharply.

“Him!” he barked. “ _He_ has it! He has the ring!” Sauron started after him, and Bilbo, scared for his life, backpedaled quickly. He didn't make it far, for he tripped over one of the raised planks of the porch, and began falling to the ground.

Bilbo's eyes shot open, and he looked around frantically. Panting and sweating heavily, he finally realized that he was home, at Bag End, and in his very own bed. He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes again. _What a horrible nightmare that was,_ he thought. _Certainly don't want a repeat of that any time soon._

He relaxed again, and tried his best to fall back to sleep, figuring he had a good few more hours before he had to get up. How wrong he was.

“Bilbo Bilbo Bilbo! Today's the day, get up! We have to get ready!”

Bilbo's younger cousin Pippin had sprinted into his room, and was now jumping up and down violently on Bilbo's bed. Bilbo groaned and tried to curl up away from Pippin, but it was no use.

“Bilbo get up! We're leaving very soon! We have to get to the portkey in time!!” Pippin continued to shout. He kept on until finally Bilbo sat up on his hands.

“Okay, _okay!_ I'm up. I'm up! Quit it, Pippin. You don't look so ready yourself, you're still in your pajamas. Go on, get out,” he waved his nephew away and slid out of his bed, reaching for his favourite patched up robe and sliding it on. Habitually, he pat down the pockets, and was mildly confused when his hand landed on something solid. He reached in and pulled the mystery item out, leading Bilbo to gape openly at it. It was a ring.


	2. the Quidditch World Cup

The ring was one that definitely didn't belong to him, and he had never seen it before. He couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to his nightmare. 

 _“Him! He has it! He has the ring!”_  

Bilbo could hear that voice clearly, and it rang through his head over and over. He rotated the ring in his hand, examining it closely. Nothing seemed special about it. It was just a plain, gold ring. He didn't get another second to think about the trinket when his oldest nephew Frodo walked in. 

“Aunt Bell told me to get you up and about. We're leaving soon, and she wants you to at least eat second breakfast because you've already missed first,” he told him. Bilbo sighed. 

“Yes, yes, of course. I'm up, and I'll be out in a minute. Go on without me, Fro,”

 -------

Second Breakfast wasn't anything special, and Bilbo found the excitement coming from his nephews rubbing off on him. His mother Belladonna was indulging Frodo and Merry in a miniature game of Quidditch, using their forks and bits of food. All the while, Pippin was going on and on and on, spewing fact after fact about the teams playing for the Cup that day. Bilbo watched on in mild amusement, but his father kept having to repeatedly scold them.

When they finished, Bungo quickly cast a charm on all the dirty dishes, and they all flew into the sink and began cleaning themselves. The family got ready, and they set out. The travel to their designated portkey, a broken wagon wheel, was an uneventful one. The only one of their family who was used to portkeys was Primula, and so the rest of them were dazed and nauseous for a time when they hit the ground. They eventually managed to stumble to the campground.

Bilbo had never seen so many people in one place in his life. There were hobbits, men, dwarves and even elves running amok throughout the site. He saw flags and banners from all over Middle Earth, and a plethora of spells flying through the sky that he had never seen before. Their tent was smaller than most, and it was placed directly between two other tents that belonged to two families of men and dwarves. The inside of it was identical to Bag End, and Bilbo couldn't help but be slightly disappointed. He secretly had been looking forward to a bit of change for once.

They didn't stay long in their tent. After putting their things away, they all sat down for luncheon before getting back on their feet. It was almost time for the most important match of the year to start, and there was no way any of them would live it down from Pippin if they missed any of it, at all. The family left in a rush, and Bilbo had to hurry to keep up with them.

To no one's surprise, Pippin was up in front leading the way and spouting out all sorts of useless Quidditch facts. Merry was behind Pippin trying to make sure he didn't get carried away and lost. Belladonna and Bungo were right after them, and in the back was Bilbo, Frodo right at his heels. Occasionally, Bilbo would make sure Frodo didn't get distracted and wander off. The last time Bilbo had to turn around and check, Frodo had stopped to talk to a child who had gotten lost himself.

Bilbo hurried over and was relieved that in that instant, the small dwarfling's father-- or... mother, maybe? He couldn't really tell, the beards made it confusing-- had appeared quite suddenly and scooped the child into their arms. As the pair began walking away in the opposite direction, Bilbo could hear the dwarfling yelling, “Look Amad, hobbits! Lookits their feets!”

“C'mon, Frodo, we have to catch up with the others,” he mumbled. He led them back through the thick crowds until finally they made it back to their own brood, right as they were entering into the stadium.

Bilbo couldn't help but feel slightly bad for the folk who weren't as well off as his family, having to climb, climb, climb, all the way to the top of the arena. Bungo had a nice desk job at the Ministry of Magic, and Belladonna was an Auror, so for them, money was no issue. They got well enough seats closer to the pitch, and were sat next to another family Bilbo vaguely recognized from the Ministry. He was enjoying looking around at everything and everyone, taking it all in and just in general wizard-watching. After several long minutes of doing this, Bilbo felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to Frodo, who was pointing eagerly towards the private box seats.

“Look, look! It's the royal family from Erebor!” he shouted. Bilbo followed his gaze, and sure enough, across the stadium, the Ereborian royal family was taking their seats right in the center of the private box.

“Hm! Wonder what they're doing here,” he thought aloud. On the other side of Frodo he heard a scoff from Pippin.

“Of course they're here! Prince Frerin is one of the Mithril's beaters, _duh_.” he sighed dramatically. Bilbo rolled his eyes, but looked to the pitch to see the players flocking out onto it. Sure enough, he noticed almost immediately the resemblance of one of the players to the royal family; stark black hair, long, sharp nose, and refined features.

The match started twenty minutes later with an awe-inspiring show of grandeur. The Dunedain Rangers flew up into the sky first, being the visitors. They did a couple of rounds around the arena before zooming back to the center with an extravagant display of fireworks matching the colours of their flag, navy and silver, trailing behind them. As the fireworks began fading, one last explosion burst in the sky behind them in the shape of the tree of Gondor, and half the stadium exploded into loud cheers.

Without giving anyone a chance to recover, the Erebor Mithril shot through the display of lights, and all the members gave a loud dwarven chant in unison. _Baruk Khazad!_ they shouted, and the other half of the stadium burst out in loud screaming and cheers. Bilbo happened to glance over to the royal family after watching Prince Frerin lead his team across the pitch. He couldn't help but smile slightly when he saw one of the younger members trying not to jump up and shout, and the two youngest not even holding back.

He looked back to what appeared to be thousands of large flakes of mithril sparkling and raining down from the sky, but then dissolve in little clouds of mist as they hit the ground. The crowd across from Bilbo and his family became an image of Erebor and the Lonely Mountain, and he was sure that’s what his spot looked like to everyone else. After a few seconds it faded, and the teams settled into their proper positions. The next ten minutes were the longest Bilbo had ever faced. He couldn't even begin to imagine the amount of anticipation Pippin felt, or even those on the pitch. Finally, the referee blew the whistle, and threw the Quaffle into the air.

The Mithril gained the immediate advantage when their main chaser, Darfi Strongarm, made good on his title. He charged forward, ripped the Quaffle from the air, pulled sharply up and threw it almost the entire length of the pitch, until it reached the hands of another chaser. They made quick work in scoring the first goal of the match. The crowd exploded into mind-numbing cheers. The Dunedain keeper threw the Quaffle back, and though another Mithril chaser managed to get a hold of it, it was quickly reclaimed by another one of the Dunedain and they scored a goal of their own.

They managed to retain possession of the Quaffle for several more minutes, making two more goals. One of the Bludgers was smacked straight at Yari, a Mithril chaser, and she narrowly escaped by performing a Sloth Grip Roll. She swung back up onto her Cleansweep, scowled at the beater, and went back to hunting down the Quaffle. Frerin swooped up on the other side of Yari and hit the Bludger off in another direction. Afterwards, he sat in place, his Firebolt slowly drifting in one direction as he scouted the Bludgers’ movements. He was startled from his reverie when Thir, a chaser on his team, made an astounding interception with the Quaffle and causing the crowd to go wild. He grinned and cheered Thir on as he scored a goal.

On the other side of the pitch about an hour later, Lothrandir, a Dunedain beater, was doing the same as Frerin. He was incredibly focused on watching the Bludgers, waiting for an opportunity to zip in and whack one of them off towards the other team. He sat up straight suddenly, and reared his broom up to rush back into play, but the second he did that, the Snitch appeared out of nowhere and flew right into his cheek with a loud smack! Lothrandir startled so hard, he flailed and slipped off his broom. Despite all his scrambling to try and get back on, he failed and began falling through the air.

The crowd that noticed this had gasped, fearful for his life. But then, Lothrandir had a jolt of realization, and he screamed out, _”Accio Cleansweep!”_  Instantly, his broom screeched to a halt, turned and began back towards him.

Over at the Dunedain goalposts, Amarthiel was shocked to find herself suddenly floating freely through the air, her broom having disappeared. Luckily, she managed to grab hold of a post and hang on, screaming and shouting. Toro, Sada, Saerdan and Radanir were now also missing their brooms. They had all shot right out from underneath them, leaving them all looking like they were riding invisible brooms. Every single one of those brooms were Cleansweeps, and every single one of them were now shooting through the sky, straight at Lothrandir.

He paled, and his life flashed before his eyes. His own Cleansweep nearly knocked the wind out of him as it slammed into his stomach, but he scrambled on and hurried away. He didn’t have long to celebrate having his broom back, as all the other players missing their brooms began screaming for them to come back as well. Lothrandir’s broom was gone once again, and soon enough there were rogue brooms zooming through the air and falling, dizzy, screaming players amongst them.

Not long after the Cleansweep debacle began, another intense side-event started. Frerin and Thir were flying close by each other, Halbarad of the Dunedains flying towards them at a fast pace. Without pretense, Frerin put himself in the same lane as Halbarad, and sped up at an alarming speed. Both being stubborn, neither of them let up even when they got nearer and nearer to each other. Mere seconds before they collided, Frerin leaped off his broom and onto Thir’s, who had pulled up next to him. Frerin’s Firebolt was a missile, and it was about to crash straight into Halbarad before he could react. But now, his broom was a large spider, flying through the air straight at Halbarad.

The Dunedain beater had no time to react, and in the next moment the spider was thrashing around on his face, leaving him sputtering and falling off his own broom. Unlike those still struggling with their Cleansweeps, he fell all the way to the ground, knocked unconscious. Frerin and Thir laughed loudly, and Frerin waved his wand idly at the spider, morphing it back into his broom. It floated up, and he jumped down onto it. Beneath him, a blur of motion flew past.

It was Radanir, who had managed to regain hold of his broom. Of course, it tried to escape him once again when everyone else (who had all gotten smart enough to cast levitation spells on themselves) tried summoning them back. He was on his stomach, clinging to the broom as if it were his lifeline, and his mouth was full of straw. Zooming backwards across the pitch, he began screaming, “STOP! _STOP! I KNOW HOW TO FIX THIS JUST STOP!_ ”

With some impressive maneuvering, Radanir righted himself when finally his fellow players stopped shouting for their brooms. They instead chose to float there and either pout or perate others. Radanir shouted “Accio Cleansweep!” one more time, and as soon as he was assured that they were chasing after him, he began flying towards another player.

“What are you doing?! Don’t lead them towards me!!” Amarthiel shrieked, still stuck clinging to the goalpost. Amazingly, without their keeper, the Dunedain defence kicked it up a notch and only let slip five goals. Radanir ignored her, and kept flying towards her, descending just so that he was underneath her, and soared right past. Finally Amarthiel caught on. As soon as the other brooms got close, she took a leap of faith and managed to land on a broom. Radanir proceeded to do this with the rest of the stranded players.

What was left of the match went by in an instant. It was almost nonstop action. There were more injuries, even _more_  foul plays, several questionable calls, and much more. Now, it was neck and neck. The score was tied at 70 – 80, the Dunedain with the lead. Everyone was on the edge of their seats and watching the seekers' every movement. The noise level in the stadium was deafening, and there were people swaying along with the seekers from where they sat.

Bilbo stared intently at the Mithril seeker Ralak, who had his arm outstretched, ready to snatch the snitch. Golodir, the rival seeker, caught wind of this, and in record time sped forth towards Ralak. They were both inches away from the snitch now, but there was a momentary distraction as Amarthiel was blindsided by a bludger, causing her to spin out of control and into one of the goal posts. There was a flash of bright, green light from the corner of Bilbo’s eye, and he snapped back to look around and investigate.

Ralak had made it away scot free, and had gone on to catch the snitch. But Golodir had been unintentionally stalled by Frerin, who flew right in his path to block a bludger from slamming into Ralak. It was both he and Frerin who were hit by that blinding flash.

The entire arena gasped and was then dead silent in mere scant seconds. Time seemed to slow, and the only constant were the flashes of cameras from multiple places throughout the stands. Everyone sat and watched in horror as the prince Frerin slumped forward on his broom, slid off to the side and fell the great many feet to the ground. The soft thud of impact left a ringing sound in Bilbo's ears, and that's when the panic set in.

It began with several screams and fingers pointing back to the air, Bilbo watching with bated breath as Golodir flew out of control, narrowly missing impaling himself on his broom as he crash landed into the ground. He stood and stumbled for a few steps, but ultimately collapsed. Several things happened all at once, then. A man jumped up right in front of the private box seats, and shouted out a curse; several others leaped up as well, revealing them all to be servants of Melkor. King Thror's bodyguards were quickly slain, and Thror himself not an instant later. His body fell forward and tumbled right into the laps of the two small dwarflings sitting in front, who were shrieking and crying and hugging each other for dear life. Thror's body was quickly yanked off of them and the boys were both picked up by one of the remaining bodyguards and Prince Thrain.

They and the Princess Dis ran for shelter, and the entire stadium erupted into pure chaos, with spells flying every which way, and several citizens falling victim to Melkor's mercenaries. Bilbo was yanked up by his father. He grabbed Frodo also with a strong grip to both their arms, and Bilbo's family began running for their lives. The last thing Bilbo saw was another dwarf in the box seats shot down with the flash of green light, and he could make out people screaming, “What's happening, what's going on?!”

Then nothing.

 

* * *

 

 **AN:** Please let me know what you guys think! I would appreciate it very much :)  
Here is a **[preview](http://werewulftherewulf.tumblr.com/post/104315608100/bb-gof-ch2-preview-beneath-the-cut-yo)** for the next chapter, if you so wish!


	3. The new school year and the arrival of guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo heads off to school, the Rosewater Academy of Young Hobbit Wizards, with his young nephew Frodo. Many surprises are waiting for both of them, in the form of a grand tournament and several new guests.

Bilbo awoke the next morning feeling completely normal. It wasn't until he had gone down to first breakfast (after making his bed, getting dressed and brushing his teeth like the proper hobbit he was) that he remembered yesterday's catastrophe. Just as he had sat down and began scraping a piece of toast with his favourite grape jam, Frodo ran in and tossed the day's paper haphazardly on the middle of the table, not paying attention to much else as he rushed to grab a plate of food.

Only a small portion of the large headline was visible from the way it was folded, and, intrigued, Bilbo reached for it and unfolded it completely with his free hand, the other holding his toast. The headline made him pause in chewing his mouthful of food, and the memories of the previous day were thrust back into his mind. The thrill of getting to go to the World Cup, the crowds cheering, the excitement of it all. And then the chaos. The deaths, all the yelling and screaming, being tugged to his feet and apparated home.

 

**'KING THROR OF EREBOR DEAD;**

**PRINCE FRERIN, 47 CASUALTIES SLAIN**

**AT QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP**

**SERVANTS OF MELKOR SUSPECTED'**

 

Beneath it was a small but clear moving image of the immense panicking that took place less than twenty-four hours previously, and Melkor's symbol floating high in the air above them.

In much smaller text underneath it were the results of the match; Ralak had managed to catch the snitch right as Frerin had been attacked, and so the Mithril had won. Something told Bilbo that the dwarves of Erebor weren't too enthused by their native team's win. Bilbo gently placed the paper back down on the table and resumed eating his food, avoiding looking at any of the others. He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder a moment later as she reached over and removed it from the table, moving it to the countertop behind him.

She sighed, and Bilbo could almost hear her forced smile. “Now, now. As unfortunate as it all is, we need to keep our heads up! The school year will be starting soon, and we need to go get all your new books and robes! And for Frodo now, too! Aren't you excited, Frodo?”

Frodo looked up from his meal, his mouth full of eggs and toast, and he nodded entusiastically.

He looked over to Merry and Pippin, who had gotten themselves covered in jam and butter. “It'll be nice to finally get away from those two, that's for sure,” he smirked. They whined and threw pieces of toast at him.

 

**\-----**

 

Every year, it was tradition in the hobbit community to journey to the Brandywine River with the children that were to go to Rosewater that year. There was a small encampment for the families to stay in while the neighbors graciously made them feel at home with meals and entertainment. They would stay for three days and four nights.

On the third day, the students would say goodbye and get into a plethora of canoes, then collectively paddle up the river and to their school, the Rosewater Academy of Young Hobbit Wizards. The journey up the river took the entire day, and when the sun set, lanterns would be set up on each canoe, and the petals that appeared with every stroke of every oar began to glow. When they reached their destination, the school would welcome the students with a feast that was so, so grand, in order to make up for the lack of meals on their trip.

The morning of the fourth day, all the families would be gone and it was as if they were never there. The only lingering evidence that anything had happened in the past few days were the copious amounts of rose petals floating along in the river.

Rosewater wasn't hidden away as much as any other wizarding school. Hobbits were open about magic, with the wizarding and muggle communities meshed finely together in harmony. The school was nestled snuggly in the Greenfields, just north of Brockenborings. Any other race that didn't know what to look for would see nothing, and avoid the area due to it being ‘plagued by bears, wolves and goblins’.

At the rivershore, the students would be greeted by Thickbark, the ent protector of the Shire. No matter how many students there were, Thickbark was always able to carry them all on his numerous thick branches. Bilbo could tell during their extremely high trip that Frodo was quite terrified. Bilbo made sure to keep close and reassure him.

Finally, the school was on the horizon. Bilbo heard all the first years gasp and begin whispering to one another excitedly. “What's that?” Frodo asked, pointing in one direction.

“I'm surprised you don't recognize a-- oh, well I don't recognize it either!” Bilbo was stunned to discover that what was once Rosewater's Quidditch pitch was now a hedge maze of impressive size. “W-well usually, that's where we play Quidditch,” he explained, not taking his eyes off the maze.

The students were all gently placed on the ground four by four by Thickbark, which took a considerable amount of time. He placed them all in groups based on their year, and Bilbo looked over to Frodo to make sure he was going okay, but he was out of his line of vision. Before he could find him, his group was ushered to the front of all the rest and began trekking into the school. They all walked straight to the Great Garden Hall, where headmaster Gerontius Took stood waiting for them.

“Welcome students! New and returning, all of you. We’ll be having quite the exciting year!” he beckoned to them all, standing to the side as they flooded in. There were small round tables all over the garden, the large area of space between both sides a stretch of inlaid red bricks leading straight to the podium and teachers’ table (Which, Bilbo noted had several empty chairs that were way too big for hobbits, and he found that quite odd).

The walls towered above them, the greenhouse glass they were made up of covered all over in creeping ivy. At the base of the back wall, where the instructors sat, was a large magical hedge that grew exoctic fruits. Directly in front of it was a small river that ran around the entire garden, with a small wooden bridge near all the exits.

All the students filed in and filled the assorted tree trunks and overgrown mushrooms that functioned as tables. There were also a few picnic clothes laid out, and a couple of picnic tables. The more senior the students were, the more in the back they sat, with all the new ones right up in front with bright and eager eyes. There were no seats, just the soft, fluffy grass, and on each table was an elegant lazy susan-- when an empty dish was placed on it, another one filled to the brim with food would take its place when rotate. Fairy lights floated in the air, and there were a few fairy rings dotting the edges of the garden. Bilbo had always heard rumors of students disappearing if they were to step inside of one, but it’d never been proven. He wasn’t going to take the chance testing that theory, though.

There was a faint twinkling sound that came from nowhere, adding to the ambience of the babbling river, chriping birds and conversing students. It was another rumor Bilbo had heard in the years he had attended Rosewater, that the mysterious sound was fairy magic keeping everyone protected.

When everyone was finally settled, Professor Took bustled up to his podium, a small tree with an ancient tome entwined securely in its branches. No one knew what was in it, not even the Headmaster himself. It was stuck open on two blank pages, and if a page were ever turned, the book would scream bloody murder at them. There was always at least once a year that the entire school heard it go off, like a fire alarm, and some students had even begun taking bets as to how long it would take until someone got curious enough to try it.

The Professor stood at the helm, standing and watching them for a few moments with a bright smile on his face. Finally, he got down to business. He whipped out his wand from his robes and stuck the tip to his throat.

“Excuse me! All eyes on me please! Finish your conversations quickly and bring your attention to me, please!”

His voice was amplified twofold and filled the entire garden. He waited for all the conversations to dwindle away before continuing.

“To all returning students, welcome back! And to those of us joining for the first time, welcome! This message is more for our newest friends. This is your first year at Rosewater Academy, and I hope for you that it is a great one. This will begin your journey into a world of both powerful magic, and simple spells that will help you with your everyday life. Every year is an exciting one.

“This next message is more for those of use that sadly won’t be returning next year. I am proud to announce that we will be playing host to the three other most prestigious wizarding schools… and the Quadwizard Tournament!”

Professor Took stood with his arms held wide and looking around to see everyone’s reaction. There wasn’t one. Everyone sat in complete silence, staring up at him in utter confusion. Finally, one brave hobbit raised their hand.

“Professor, sir? What is that? the Quadwizard Tournament.”

The Professor blinked. “O-Oh, well--”

“I can take it from here, Professor,”

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the voice, watching as a Man with long, grey hair took large strides towards the head table. Right behind him was another Man, this one with dark hair and stubble, its length not quite that of the man leading him. In the entrance to the garden was a small crowd of students that definitely were _not_  hobbits. Scared and confused, all the hobbit pupils looked back and forth wildly, not sure what to do.

“Oh, Denethor! You’re quite early. Everyone, might I introduce you to Professor Denethor Noble, and Professor Bard Bowman. Along with them are a select group of students from Hogwarts, including young Boromir and Faramir, Professor Denethor’s fine sons. Hogwarts is our first guest school, come to compete in the tournament this year,”

“ _Lord_ Denethor, Professor. I know you were about to explain to your students what the Tournament is, but would it not be wiser to wait for the other schools to arrive? Wait until everyone is here and settled,”

Professor Took nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes of course, you’re right. I suppose for now, your own students should get comfortable. Please, all of you, make yourself at home! Find a seat among us! Oh but first, I must insist you all take off your shoes. That goes for you as well, Professors,”

All of the witches and wizards from Hogwarts began removing their footwear, seeming in almost a daze, and didn’t think twice about just leaving them right where they were. They slowly then began immersing themselves among the hobbits, and as they did so, Professor Bowman turned to Took.

“Excuse me, Professor. Where is it we may set up camp and stable our mounts?” he asked. Took quickly reassured him that his groundskeeper, Hamfast Gamgee would take care of their horses, and that an area outside the school would be set up for their tents.

Agreeing with the situation, Bowman joined Lord Denethor at the Professors’ table, and Professor Took turned to all the tree stumps and mushrooms and was amused to find that the Hogwarts students that hadn’t immediately dug into the food were staring in awe at their surroundings. Boromir, son of Denethor seemed especially thrilled to be surrounded by hobbits.

Just when things finally simmered down almost an hour later, there was another spectacular interruption. No one even noticed until the students suddenly had elves sitting next to them. Bilbo noticed how in awe Frodo was, seeing them there, and it made him smile. Frodo’s friend Samwise was even more excited about them, babbling on and on to the one unlucky enough to choose to sit next to him.

Bilbo watched the headmaster of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and his main assistant stride in; He knew exactly who they were without Professor Took having to announce it. Professor Galadriel and Celeborn of Lorien. Following close behind them was Professor Thranduil Greenleaf. Bilbo knew that Greenleaf wanted nothing more than to be the headmaster of Beauxbatons. There was no replacing Galadriel though, and where Galadriel went, so did her husband Celeborn, Bilbo knew.

Once everyone began noticing the arrival of the elves, they were all staring as the elves, seeming almost ethereal, glided across the brick path. Hobbits and Men alike gaped. Galadriel appeared to have a bright, glowing aura surrounding her. Celeborn had the same, though it was much fainter than his wife’s. Thranduil had no such visage, but he walked with his chin held high and spared no one a single glance as he made his way to the instructors’ table. The other two, unlike their companion, smiled kindly to all the students, and greeted them with slight waves.

Professor Took placed Galadriel’s hand in his own, and he bowed, placing a polite kiss on her knuckles. “M’lady, how lovely it is, to see you. Your beauty never fails to instill awe into those around you. As does yours as well, Lord Celeborn,” he said, bowing deeply before Celeborn. The two bowed their heads to him and smiled before joining Professor Greenleaf. Professor Took introduced the three to his stunned students, along with the elves of Beauxbatons.

The Elven students all gladly began indulging in the food and drink, immediately striking up conversation with their surrounding peers. Bilbo himself was sat between two mischievous twin elves, who introduced themselves as Elladan and Elrohir. Having never met an elf in his life, Bilbo had assumed that they were all like Professor Greenleaf: arrogant and cold. These two certainly betrayed that assumption, telling Bilbo joke after joke, and an insane amount of ridiculous stories of them being absolute annoyances to their little sister (who was across the hall at another table) and their best friend, who worked at the Ministry with their father.

When not being almost forced to pay attention to the boys’ stories, Bilbo was playing close attention to a young Man, a child really, who had arrived with the troupe from Beauxbatons. He was sitting next to Arwen, the twins’ younger sister, and seemed content to not say much. His shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back into a loose and messy bun, with a few stray strands hanging in his face.

“Who’s that? He’s not an elf. Why did he come with you?” Bilbo asked, unintentionally interrupting Elrohir, who was showing his brother the amount of grapes he could fit in his mouth at once.

“Oh, dat’s Ethtew. He wiveth with uth in Wivendew. Ow Fathuh raitheth him with uth, an’ that’th abow aw we kno’,”

Elladan chastised his brother with a smack to the head, making Elrohir choke for a moment. Elladan turned back to Bilbo, and arm slung around Elrohir’s shoulder.

“That’s Estel. He came to us as an infant, and our father has been raising him since. All we know is that he’s someone important, we’re not to tell _anyone_  about him, and he’s got a big ol’ crush on our dearest sister Arwen,” he explained properly. Bilbo nodded and thanked him, still staring at Estel. His attention was ripped away from the boy when he noticed a sudden temperature drop.

Something in the back of his mind told him to look towards the entrance, and sure enough, there was another new arrival. It wasn’t just Bilbo that noticed him. Everyone noticed when Sauron arrived. Just his mere presence had everyone turning their heads. The atmosphere stilled and became dead silent, and Bilbo could have sworn the surrounding flora and fauna wilted slightly. Sauron spared not a single person a glance, and strode forth on his long legs up to the front.

Again Professor Took jumped forward. He stopped right in front of Sauron, and it was almost hilarious to see the height difference between them, for he was taller than even Professor Greenleaf, who was the tallest in the room up until then.

“Everyone, might I have your attention, just once more? Yes, thank you. May I introduce to you our new Defenses class instructor, Professor Sauron Annator!” Professor Took grabbed one of Sauron’s hands in both of his, and shook it profusely.

“Professor, thank you so much for coming forward when poor Professor Proudfoot met his untimely demise… it was so good of you to come out of retirement for us!”

An awkward silence filled the garden before finally, Sauron slowly looked down at the headmaster. “Yes, of course. It is my pleasure,” he said smoothly.

Everything about the man reminded Bilbo of a slippery snake, a cunning fox, something dangerous. He was left feeling very wary and uncomfortable. Bilbo narrowed his eyes at him as he stepped around Professor Took and took his seat at the teacher’s table, at the very end. Like Galadriel and Celeborn, he too seemed to have an aura about him, thought it was a dark shadow of one.

The students gradually went back to their food, their voices slowly trickling back into the area. Though, this time, the majority of them were speaking in hushed tones, anxiously, about the final school that had yet to arrive.

Professor Denethor turned to Professor Took, and unpleasant sort of smirk on his face. “I see your dwarves haven’t arrived yet, Professor. I always thought that dwarves were known to be very conscious of time. Or are they too stubborn to come, perhaps? Still angry about not hosting the Tournament this year maybe.” he paused to take several bites of food.

“Then, we’d only have the Tri-wizard Tournament, and that’s just absurd!” he continued. Professor Took suppressed a sigh, and turned to all the students. They all seemed to be winding down, and there was less and less food upon all the tables. He looked to Galadriel next to him, and suggested that it may be wise for her students to rest, and then said the same to Denethor.

Both acquiesced, though Denethor’s face never shifted from his almost-everlasting scowl. Professor Took stood then, for what was surely the hundredth time that night, and garnered the attention of the students once more.

“Attention Rosewater students! It is getting quite late, and I find now that there is no better time than to have our most senior students show our newest to their dorms. I think it best that all of you retire for the night. As for our guest students,” he gestured behind himself to Galadriel and Denethor, “your headmaster and headmistress shall show you to yours. I hope you all have a wonderful evening, and I will see you all bright and early tomorrow!”

he turned back to the table, only to find Professor Annator smiling at him condescendingly.

“But professor, I only just arrived! I’ve had almost no time to eat at all, surely you don’t mean for us all to go to our rooms now?” he asked, his smile stretching even wider.

“O-Of course not, Professor! You, along with all the other professors, are allowed to stay here for as long as you wish! I will be turning in for the night, though. So… good night!” Professor Took told him, refusing to be intimidated by the giant of a man. He turned on his heel and followed after all of the students, now flooding out of the giant hall.

 

\-----

 

After being told to head off to the dorms, Bilbo quickly found Frodo and Sam. He pulled them close the moment he caught up to them.

“So,” he began, “what do you think so far, you two?”

Sam looked up at him with a bright look on his face. “Oh, Mister Bilbo sir, I love it! All that food, and the _elves_ , Mister Bilbo, did you see the elves?”

Bilbo laughed. “Yes, Sam, I must say I did, and I made myself rather acquainted with a pair of them. They’d like you, Samwise. What about you, Frodo, what do you think? Suitable enough for you?”

Frodo smiled and nodded. “Yes, it’s very nice! I can’t wait to start my lessons and make new friends! It’s also nice that the hallways look a lot like hobbit holes,”

All the courtyards and most of the hallways were like the Great Garden, open and covered in plantlife. While the Garden Hall had glass walls, the hallways were made up of white fencing, covered in the same ivy that adorned the glass walls. There were small lanterns made of leaves and bottled fireflies hanging from the ceiling. The main halls, and all the dorms and classrooms, looked more like the hobbit holes the students were accustomed to. Warm, made of fine, sturdy hardwood and filled with homey accessories.

Sam frowned. “What about me, Frodo? You don’t plan on stopping being my friend, do you?”

This made Frodo laugh, and pat his best friend on the back. “Of course not, Sam! We’ll always be best friends, I promise,” he looked up at his uncle. “Which was is it to our dorms again, Uncle? I am rather tired,”

 

\-----

 

It was the middle of the night, and he was suddenly being woken from a very promising dream about giving his nasty cousin, Lobelia, a thorough talking to for all the nastiness she’d caused. Snapping his eyes open, Bilbo sat up and glared. What he found was that it wasn’t just him that was being woken up, it was everyone. The lanterns had been turned back on, and Professor Leafcutter, the potions instructor, was wizarding everyone awake. The yelling probably helped too.

“All of you! Up! Get up!! All of you get up right this instance!” he shouted, clapping his hands above his head several times.

As the students slowly woke up and sat at the edge of their beds, they grumbled and rubbed at their eyes.

“What’s it? What’s goin’ on?” one asked, his speech slurred from sleep.

“You’re all to gather back in the Great Garden Hall. Our final guests have arrived, and you’re to come out and meet them properly,” the Professor explained. A collection of groans sounded out across the dorm.

“What, _that’s it?_ Can’t it wait until morning?” Otho Sacksville-Baggins whined. He was just as bad as Lobelia, as far as Bilbo was concerned.

“No! It must be now! Now get up, all of you! There’s no time to change, just come as you are!”

Irritated, but not one to disobey orders, Bilbo yawned widely, bringing his hand up to his mouth, and pulled on his robe. Not giving any of the others another glance, he shuffled off down towards the garden.

He found that he was one of the first hobbits down there, except for the first and second years. They looked wide awake, and excited about what was happening. Professor Took was there, and had brightened the fairy lights to illuminate the entire hall as if it were day. The Men and Elves were there, too, standing in their own corners. Bilbo couldn’t help but be amused at the sight of both other races in their pajamas. The little girl from Hogwarts (she must’ve been someone important, Bilbo thought, if she was the only one of that age there) was hugging a stuffed rabbit to her chest with one arm, and was clinging to her older sister’s nightgown with the other as she yawned into it.

Bilbo also noticed that Estel had a soft blanket wrapped around him, and he was on the fast track to falling back asleep, leaning against Elladan (or Elrohir? Those two were wearing matching pajamas, and Bilbo couldn’t differentiate them) with his eyes closed. Whichever twin it was that had Estel against him, he was gently carding through Estel’s hair, not helping the situation with keeping the boy awake. All the Men had thick, woolen socks on. A tired looking Professor Took looked as though he wanted to say something about it, but he either realized that Men’s feet were thin and tender, and more susceptible to extreme temperatures, or he was too exhausted.

Several long minutes passed, and the only noise other than the chirping of crickets and that quiet tinkling bell sound (that had grown fainter in the evening) was all the yawns coming from everyone’s mouths.

“Professor…” one hobbit began to whine. He didn’t get to finish his sleepy thought. A large, thundering stampede-like noise sounded from the wooden bridge, and it was all the dwarves stomping over it and joining the others. They looked just as tired as everyone else, save for the frightening looking dwarf at the head of their group.

Large and covered in brilliant orange hair, he had to be none other than the headmaster, Professor Thrain.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Took began, interrupting himself with a yawn, “everyone, these are the students of Durmstrang Institute in the east, and their somewhat,” another yawn, “temporary headmaster, Dain Ironfoot. Now that,” more yawning, “they have finally arrived, I shall begin explaining the Quadwizard Tournament,”

Bilbo tuned out temporarily to examine the new guests. Unlike the Men and Elves, they were all within his height range, if not a little taller. The majority of them had facial hair, which Bilbo found strange. He subconsciously rubbed at his face. All of them had either red, black or brown hair, and they looked very grumpy. Bilbo wasn’t sure if they were always like that, or if it was because they were just as exhausted as everyone else. His attention snapped back towards his headmaster after he found himself staring.

“Excuse me, your highness, if you don’t mind…” the professor said gently to one of the dwarves. Bilbo followed his line of sight. His gaze landed on someone whose face he’d never forget. When he had last seen him, it was in the newspaper the morning after the Quidditch World Cup, looking horrified as he was being tugged to safety, and as he watched the members of his family die right before his eyes.

Thorin of the line of Durin, heir to the throne of Erebor was standing in the midst of the crowd of dwarves, and he was holding something large. That’s when Bilbo realized two things: what it was Professor Took was asking, and that he had been wrong in his earlier observation. The large _thing_  that Prince Thorin was holding was not at all a thing in the first place. It was actually a rather small dwarf, with a full head of blond hair. The tiny dwarf was sound asleep against the prince’s chest, and the prince looked as if he had absolutely no intention of waking him up.

“They have had a very long day. I will tell them everything in the morning,” he told the professor. They? Bilbo looked back over, and he saw standing next to the prince a very tall and intimidating dwarf, holding another tiny and sleeping dwarf. This one was even smaller than the blond one, and had much darker hair.

Professor Took smiled sadly and nodded. “I don’t see any issue with that,”

He turned back to everyone else. “So. As you’ve been hearing about all day, we are hosting the Quadwizard Tournament! It’s a tournament held every ten years, with a different hosting school each year. There will be four Champions! One from each school. Champions are chosen one by one, after putting their name in the Goblet of Fire!” stepping out of the way, the professor gestured wildly to a large object in the middle of the garden, covered by a large sheet.

Hamfast Gamgee was standing next to it, and at Professor Took’s signal, he whipped it off excitedly. Underneath the sheet was an extraordinarily large goblet made of… Bilbo couldn’t tell, though he heard a nearby dwarf whisper something that sounded like ‘mithril’. As soon as it was uncovered, it began omitting shockingly blue flames, making all the students gasp.

“This is the Goblet of Fire,” continued Took, “Everyone who wishes to enter must do so by writing their name on a slip of paper, and putting it in the Goblet. Selected Champions will have to perform in three tasks, all judged by the headmasters and headmistresses of each school. These tasks are designed to test magical ability, courage, and intelligence.

“The prizes are as such: a monetary award paid in the currency of the winner’s choosing, glory, and the Quadwizard Cup.” he turned again to Hamfast, who unveiled another object that left everyone gaping. A large trophy, bright Shire green and transparent, sat on a tall pedestal behind the Goblet. It had gold trim, and was engraved with the words ‘Quadwizard Tournament Champion TA 2941’.

“But be forewarned, dear students, for there is no going back once you’ve entered your names. The Tournament is extremely dangerous, and there are no promises that all of you will return back to us in one piece, if you return at all.” the look on his face was grim, and his gaze shifted over all the students sternly. An instant later, he bounced back, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now, the rules! First and foremost, you must either be of age, in your final year at your school, or be of age to be in your final year! No exceptions! There is an extremely powerful age line around the Goblet, and anyone that doesn’t meet this requirement will not go any further!”

The effect was instantaneous. Several students (mostly Men and Dwarves) began shouting and demanding about how unfair that was. Professor Took calmly waited for them to settle.

“I know that seems unfair, but that is the way of things. No outside help is allowed to the Champions. No little helpful hints and tips from friends or teachers. No cheating!! Absolutely no cheating! On the night of Second Yule, the first day of the new year, there will be the Yule Ball. It is a formal ball, and is led by the Champions and their partners. Everyone of all ages may attend. And finally, as I said earlier, there is no going back. If you are a selected Champion, that’s it. Are there any questions?”

Several hands flew up. The professor smiled. “That’s nice,” he said. “Ask your head professors. Everyone else, back off to bed. Shoo, shoo, all of you, go on back to your dorms,” he came at them, waving them away so he could head back to bed himself.

 

* * *

 

Hot diggity-dog, an update! On Christmas, no less! Sorry for any mistakes and such. Had a portion of this written out for a long time, but for the past few hours I pumped it all up, added stuff, subtracted stuff, the works. 

Enjoy that tacky Melkor symbol? :P I spent more time on that than I should've. I was also going to add a watercolor painting I did of the Great Garden Hall, but then it ended up being  _extremely awful_. If you still want to see it, it's [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/pkz0r2mct5h5xc1/20141224_185458.jpg?dl=0). I spent maybe 3.5 hours on that, and I am  _so ashamed_ D;

[Yule](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Yule)  
[Lazy Susans](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lazy_Susan)  
[Etc ](http://www.lindir-official.tumblr.com)or [etc  
](http://www.werewulftherewulf.tumblr.com)[My Triwizard/Quadwizard info guide](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Triwizard_Tournament)

 

Kudos are great! Bookmarks are super! Comments are super duper!


	4. Chapter 4

After everyone was hustled out of the huge garden, Professor Ironfoot rounded up his students and pulled them off to the side.

“Now, I know how exhausted you all are from our travels, and it is indeed very late. So, for tonight, there have been arrangements made so that all of you will be sharing the dorm with the host students. There will be no sharing beds with the other students, their dorms have been charmed and expanded to make just the perfect amount of room for each of you,” he explained to them, watching all the young dwarves look amongst each other in confusion.

Thorin looked to Dwalin, and it was clear his best friend shared in his insecurities.

“It’ll just be one night,” Dwalin said, and he peered down at little Kili, who was out cold in his arms. “I’m sure it’ll be good for the lads, too. Better a warm, comfy garden than out in the cold,”

Thorin nodded. “Yes, you’re right…” he felt a stirring against his chest, and he saw Fili staring up at him blearily.

“Uncle… are we there yet?” he asked in a whisper. He let out a large yawn and rubbed at his eyes. “Where’s Kee?”

“Aye, we’re here lad. You’re brother’s right here, safe with me. Go back to sleep, little lion,” Thorin muttered to him, petting his hair. Fili mumbled back a drowsy ‘ok’ and snuggled back into Thorin’s chest. Dwalin nudged him, and he saw that everyone was beginning to move.

They followed Dain, who was leading them behind all the hobbit students, back to the dorms. When they reached their destination, they were stopped again.

“Alright, there’s one bed for each and every one of you. Just follow the others up and you’ll find one,” he instructed, immediately turning away and leaving off in another direction. Thorin walked up the tall spiral staircase, not surprised that it had ivy growing up it like the rest of the walls he had seen, his best friend behind him.

When they reached the second floor, they were pleasantly surprised to see the setting had changed to something almost completely different. The walls and floors were polished wood, there was a seemingly never-ending rug in the middle of the floor and there were quaint wall and ceiling decorations throughout. There was a professor standing beside the top of these stairs, and she informed both of them that there was no more room on this floor, and to continue up. Thorin and Dwalin were met with this message two more times before finally being accepted.

“Just your luck, there’s four more beds left!” the professor told them. Thorin pursed his lips and shook his head.

“We’ll only be needing two.” he said sternly. Without waiting for him to reply, Thorin walked right past him.

He and Dwalin wandered on the floor for a few minutes, getting slightly lost in the corridors, but eventually they spotted some students ahead of them and they quickly caught up. He followed them in through the odd round doorway, and looked around at the numerous amount of beds. Most of them were filled with hobbits already, and the ones who weren’t gabbing excitedly to each other were staring openly at the dwarves.

As his gaze searched the room, Thorin found one of the open beds. He turned to let Dwalin know, but the dwarf beat him to it.

“There’s no beds next to each other… do you want me to keep Kili for the night? Or do you want them both?” he asked. Thorin shook his head.

“You should have Kili for the night. There’s not enough room for three of us in one bed, even if two are a third of my size,” he smiled. “The boys love you as they love me, Kili will be happy to wake up with you,”

This made Dwalin bashful, bowing his head and smiling. He bid Thorin a good night and wandered over to the first available bed he could find, much to the horror of the hobbits around him. Thorin watched him get settled and tuck Kili in beside him before going to find his own bed. It was a bit away from Dwalin’s, and one over from being in a nice cozy corner.

He placed Fili down on the bed and sat gently next to him. He took off his coat, then wrapped Fili all in it, knowing that even in sleep it would comfort him. He undid his boots and stripped to just his tunic. He made sure to fold his extra clothing and place them on top of his boots, smiling at the thought of Dis making fun of him for it. He was never one to be this neat, regretfully, but he was in the presence of guests. He frowned quickly after that thought, thinking of her grief at the loss of her husband, and having to let her children go away for almost a year. Their grandparents were dead, along with their mother and their brother. Their father had gone missing. She was truly alone, and Thorin wished he could be with her.

He was just climbing beneath the blankets (after tucking Fili in extra tight, transforming him into a small dwarfling burrito) when he noticed that the hobbit next to him, with the corner bed, was the one that had been staring straight at him when they were in the hall. All the hobbit students had stared at them when they arrived, of course, but this one especially had eyes only for Thorin. He was dead asleep, his face smushed against his pillow, and was snoring softly. Getting comfy, Thorin turned his back to the hobbit and pulled Fili to his chest, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

Bright and early the next morning, Faramir of Gondor, student of Hogwarts, stood up against the far wall in a large hallway. He had just come from breakfast; a large plate of scrambled eggs bought from the markets of Brockenborings, bacon, and a stew made from the wild hogs and wolves around the area. His brother Boromir had offered to join him on his way back into Rosewater, but their father pulled him away. When Faramir peered after them curiously, Denethor just spat at him to mind his own business.

Now he was by himself, quietly watching all the students bustle about trying to get to their classes. Faramir had never seen such a diverse crowd of people all in one area at a time, but he enjoyed seeing all the physical differences between them. All the hobbits were small and round, like pears with large hairy feet. Dwarves made him think of small, stone columns. Small, square, and made of rocks. Elves were like tall, willowy trees, swaying gently but hard to knock down. Then his people, the Men, were normal.

 _But to them, it is they who are the normal ones, and me that is the odd one out. What are we like to them?_ he thought. He looked to his right, and saw across the courtyard the dwarf princes and their friend, arguing with their headmaster, though about what he couldn’t hear. He had seen how protective the crown prince and his large friend were of the smaller princes, and concluded that it probably had to do with classes, which meant being separated.

What Faramir and the rest of his school entourage had been told that morning, during breakfast, was that their class schedules would be much the same for everyone. Since there was so few from each guest school there, there was no need to make any huge changes. There was no house system at Rosewater. It seemed that Hogwarts was the only school to do that kind of thing. So for classes, each student got a schedule sheet that placed them in the same classes as their host students, based on their age or magic level.

His attention was grabbed by something shimmering in the corner of his eye, and it turned out to be Professor Greenleaf, strutting through the hall with his son close behind him. His head held high, he ignored absolutely anyone that stared openly at him, and never stopped once as the crowd parted before him. Faramir couldn’t tell if his eyes were even open.

“Aye, those elves all seem to be a right bunch of arrogant flowers, don’t they?”

Faramir nearly leaped out of his skin and clutched his chest over his heart, as if it would actually calm it. Next to him stood his elder brother, who had snuck up on him while he stared at the elves.

“Oh, yes, I suppose,” he responded, going back to watching the tall professor. “Do you think he ever trips over anything, walking around with his eyes closed as he does?” he turned to look at his brother. Boromir laughed and swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

“Now that’s a sight I’d pay good money to see,” he chuckled.

“What did Father want this morning?” Faramir asked. Boromir’s smile slid off his face and transformed into a grimace.

“Just the usual. _Don’t consort yourself with the enemy_ , and _you_ must _be the best_ , _you_ will _be entering the competition_ , that sort of stuff,” he explained, mocking their father’s voice. That made Faramir smile and laugh lightly, but he furrowed his brows in worry.

“Did you enter your name then?” he asked quietly. His brother nodded.

“Yes. But don’t worry yourself. What are the chances of me being chosen, one in fifty? I’ll be okay,” Boromir smiled at him and ruffled his hair. That didn’t ease Faramir’s uneasiness, but he looked back up at Boromir and smiled.

“Alright. I have to go to my first class, now. I’ll see you later Boomer,”

“Hey! I told you not to call me that, _Furry_!” Boromir snapped in faux irritation. He grabbed at his little brother, and boxed him over the ears, making Faramir yelp in pain. He laughed though, and elbowed Boromir in the stomach, making his getaway before Boromir could get back at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo had slept so well that night, he had almost entirely forgotten about what had taken place the very night before. He thought it all to be one incredibly elaborate dream. It wasn’t until he was walking to his first class, Herbology, when that very notion was destroyed. First was the pair of elves walking by, laughing and joking around with themselves. It was impossible to miss them, they, along with all the elves, towered over the hobbits, casting long shadows on top of them.

Then, a little girl skipped past. She was clearly very young, but she was slightly taller than the hobbit girls surrounding her, and her dress was definitely a different style from what he had ever seen in the Shire. He recalled everything then, especially the Quadwizard Tournament. The whole business seemed slightly interesting to him, but he was going to have absolutely nothing to do with it other than spectating!

The sights made Bilbo feel slightly off-kilter, and as he made his way over to the greenhouses, he made sure to keep an eye out for any other of the guest students. He didn’t run into any, but the greenhouse was another matter entirely. Bilbo counted two Dwarves, four Elves, and three Men. He wasn’t too surprised to see that there was a circle of empty space surrounding each one. Hobbits were very wary and distrusting of change, and this situation was definitely a large change. Bilbo found an open spot in the crowd right as the professor, Marigold Twospade, began her speech.

“Good morning! Welcome to Advanced Herbology! All of you here are here by choice, and it thrills me to see so many faces I recognize! Well, except those of you who are our guests, you didn’t really have a choice, but I still hope you enjoy this class as much as the rest of us!” she told them, a large smile stretching across her face. “Now, there should be an even number of you, including our special guests. So all of you, partner up! Find a partner, then find a spot at a table with an aquarium. One aquarium per pair,”

Bilbo didn’t know if somehow time had stood still during those next few moments, or if he’d been cursed to be stuck in slow-motion or _what_ , but the second Bilbo looked up after the instructions, everyone had already gotten a partner and was on their way to the tables. No one but him was was stationary, which Bilbo knew couldn’t be possible after what Professor Twospade had told them. Turning behind him, Bilbo immediately spotted his partner-to-be.

Standing in the very back corner was the prince of Erebor. _Of course it would be him_. Bilbo thought, sighing through his nose. Taking a deep breath, he puttered to the back corner with the prince. The prince looked down at him when he got there, and Bilbo nodded politely at him. The prince returned the gesture, but otherwise did nothing.

Now in an awkward position, Bilbo rocked back onto his heels and stuck his hands in his back pockets.

“So… looks like we’re partners then, eh?” he chuckled weakly, hoping to break the ice.

“... Yes, it appears so. We should find our aquarium,” his partner responded, jerking his head in the direction of the others. Without waiting for Bilbo, he began walking over.

Bilbo started and quickly followed. “My name is Bilbo, by the way! Bilbo Baggins, at your service! What’s yours?” he called out, rushing to catch up. The prince had already reached their spot at the table at that point, but he turned at looked at Bilbo with a look of extreme bafflement on his face, as if unused to being unknown.

“Thorin. M’name’s Thorin. I would’ve thought you’d know me by the way you were gawking at me last night, in that great garden,” he said, watching Bilbo’s face turn red.

“O-oh, well! I just… I recognized you last night, from the World Cup and the Daily Prophet. I was surprised to see you here is all. It wasn’t something I expected,” Bilbo tried to explain. “I never knew your name, only your face,”

Thorin’s head gave a very slight shake, and he nodded solemnly. “I understand,” he looked down and smiled at Bilbo, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Thorin grabbed their sheet of instructions, and not paying attention to his actions or surroundings, accidentally tromped right on Bilbo’s feet as he read the parchment. Bilbo yelped and hopped away, clutching his foot. Thorin startled so hard that he dropped the instructions and stumbled back into the table, apologizing frantically.

When Bilbo recovered a minute later, he shot an acidic look towards Thorin’s feet.

“Excuse me, but what is that?” he asked, slightly disgusted. He pointed down at them, and his partner followed the finger, confused.

“My... boots?”

“Yes! Take them off! Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No one told us anything about our feet. Why must we do this?” Thorin asked. Bilbo sputtered.

“Hobbits don’t wear boots! Or shoes of any kind! And while you are staying with us in our school… well, when in Rohan, do as the Rohirrim do. So, go on. Take them off, and set them somewhere. I’ll be waiting here,” he sniffed, not giving Thorin a chance to respond.

Thorin stared at him with a wide, confused expression. Shaking his head, he leaned one arm on the table and began unlacing his boots, sliding them off and out of the way under the table. joined Bilbo at their table. Bilbo double checked to make sure that Thorin had indeed taken his boots off, and when Thorin caught him at it, a small smile adorned his face and he wiggled his toes.

“See? They’re off. You know, I’ve never been allowed to walk around in my bare feet in public,” he pointed out, “it’s… a weird feeling. Can’t say I can wait to walk in the grass,”

The icy bitterness that had gripped Bilbo’s heart thawed a little, and he returned the smile.

“You’ll have the best first experience, then. There’s no such grass as there is in the Shire. I apologize for my attitude a bit ago, by the way! I was very out of line.”

Thorin shook his head, “No, no, it’s alright. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed, with all the changes going on around here. We’d better get started on our project,” he bent over to grab the sheet of instructions off the ground.

Today, they were studying Gillyweed and experiencing the effects of it, learning firsthand what to expect if the need to use it would ever arise. Next to the students’ full aquariums were small wooden bowls filled with the slimy, writhing plant.

Bilbo turned to look up at his partner, getting queasy just looking at it. “So, would you rather go first, or shall I?” he asked.

Thorin stared at him for a second, and then shook his head and shrugged, as if he hadn’t even been paying attention. “I don’t care, it’s up to you,” he said back. Bilbo furrowed his eyebrows, a spark of irritation shooting through him. If this… _prince_  thinks he’s going to be able to slack off here, then he had another thing coming!

“Well if you’re not going to bother… then fine. _I’ll_ just go ahead and do it all,” he muttered bitterly beneath his breath.

“... Do you want me to do it first? I mean, I can, if you really want me to, it’s no problem…”

Bilbo jolted, both fear and shame pulsing from his head, down his shoulders and into his stomach. He hadn’t meant for Thorin to hear him. “W-well, fine. If you want to. I just don’t want you thinking that since you’re… _royalty_ , that you can do what you want and get away with it!”

The prince stared straight at him for an unnervingly long time. Then he nodded once and turned back to their tools. “Yes, of course.” he mumbled. Grabbing one of the gobs of Gillyweed, it nearly fell back into the bowl as the gooey tendrils wriggled about in his hands. The cold and slimy rat-like roots unnerved him. Avoiding Bilbo’s gaze, he stood up straight, took a deep breath, and swallowed it whole.

 

* * *

 

 

Immediately Thorin doubled over and clutched the table in an iron grip with both hands. It was one of the worst things he had ever experienced! It was like choking down a great big handful of slugs. He fell to his elbows, now using his hands to claw at his neck. Oh how it burned and stung! Somehow, through all the pain and panic, he remembered the second part of his task. With all the willpower Thorin could muster, he lifted himself up and dunked his head in the tank. After a few seconds of dismay, he finally managed to get the hang of it. For the next couple of minutes, he let himself relax in the surprisingly soothing water. It swayed his head about lightly, and his long, dark hair floated around, the soft tugging at his scalp soothing.

Just as he was about to let himself drift off to sleep, he choked on the water. Jolting back reality, the prince struggled in a daze to get back up. He felt hands on his shoulder, and was yanked out of the water by Bilbo.

“Are you okay?!” Bilbo shouted. Surprised with himself, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, everyone except those closest to them was still keeping to their own work. They were all concerned with their own Gillyweed project, reacting much the same as the prince. Regardless, Bilbo lowered his voice. “What were you thinking! It looked like you were… falling asleep!” he hissed.

Dripping all over the floor and sopping wet, Thorin stared at Bilbo through his long and heavy hair. He reached up and pulled it out of his face, shaking his hands at the ground to get rid of excess water.

“I apologize, I… wasn’t-- I’ve been a bit distracted lately, and under some stress, is all.” he mumbled. He turned to leave, but stopped to give Bilbo some advice. “It burns. When you eat it, it’ll burn and itch for a minute, so watch out for that.”

He didn’t wait for Bilbo’s reaction, one foot already out the door. He also completely ignored the disgruntled shouts sent his way from Professor Twospade. Hurrying back into the school, Thorin turned down a random hallway, aimlessly going down it. He passed by a few classrooms, and he glanced into them as he went by. One of them he noticed had Dwalin in it, who was paying rapt attention to his professor. That was something Thorin could say he loved about his friend. Based alone on his tough looks and brash personality, everyone always assumed Dwalin couldn’t care less about his studies. In truth, Dwalin valued them above everything else (the only exceptions being his brothers, Balin and Thorin). He continued on with his head down.

After shambling through tunnel after tunnel of hallways, Thorin found a sudden large opening in one of the walls. It had no door, and instead of leading to another classroom, it led into a small indoor garden. There was definitely a natural source lighting the small area up, but he couldn’t find its source. In two opposite corners, the ones to Thorin’s immediate right and across from him in the left, there were small ponds. The closest one had lily pads floating around, some with flowers, others without. A tiny frog croaked passively from the surface of one.

The other pond had a small waterfall flowing into it, and there were a couple of birds bathing in the water. Next to that pond were bushes and a small, nearly-hidden stone bench. Without thought, Thorin headed straight for it, but he didn’t get far. The first step into the cool grass left him reeling and almost jumping back into the hallway. The grass was almost impossibly green, and so, so soft. It was like nothing Thorin had ever felt before in his life. If he were a different dwarf, he supposed that he’d lie in it and roll around like a content kitten. He quickly looked over both shoulders, as if he was seriously considering the action. Instead he took three quick steps into the sanctuary, then stopped.

He flexed his toes, relishing in the feel of the velvety grass between them. He looked down at them, then up to the ceiling. Thorin’s earlier confusion over the source of light became resolved right then, as he discovered the ceiling to be made of the same glass as the walls in that enormous garden he had first entered. He looked back down and strode over to the bench, not hesitating in plopping right down onto it. He wasn’t surprised at the coldness of the stone, it soaking through his cloak and tunic. He kept wiggling his toes, enjoying its texture twofold.

He sat there, then, just listening to the babbling waterfall, the chirping birds and the buzzing insects as they flew by. Thorin was truly content, basking in the sunlight. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been this relaxed, other than the very brief moment earlier in the greenhouse. It had certainly been some time before the tragedy at the World Cup. The World Cup…

He still couldn’t believe it. Thror, gone. Varli, gone. Frerin. His little brother. Gone. Their father, too, was gone, but… just missing. He wasn’t with their group of refugees, but neither was his body among the dead. There was still hope. It had been months, but it felt like it was yesterday.

Thorin could almost laugh at the thought of it. He had let himself loosen up for the event, and he was cheering almost as hard as his wee nephews. He didn’t even understand what he was seeing, at first. His little brother, the wild, mischievous scrap of a thing that did nothing but enjoy life, was falling through the air. What? That’s not right. Why wasn’t he moving, panicking, flailing like those others did earlier when they lost their brooms? Frer?

Only when his grandfather tumbled head-first into the boys’ laps did the realization begin to sink in. It was cold. Cold like the biting wind that stings your cheeks when you’re out in the snow, except instead of your cheeks, it’s the back of your scalp, and it runs down your back and into the entirety of your chest where it settles. It leaves you numb.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how the boys felt. After Thror’s body was yanked away from them, Kili immediately sought out safety in his brother. Fili in turn searched for their father, Varli. Their eyes found each other the second the curse struck Varli in the chest. In years time, Fili would confide in him that he saw the light leave his father’s eyes. It was then that he hid his face in Kili’s hair, hugging his brother tightly to his chest. They were gathered up, along with Thorin, and they made their escape.

Thorin still dreamt about it all, waking almost every night from the terrors. He knew his nephews and baby sister were no better. He could hear the boys sobbing at night, and had no doubt they were clinging to each other in one of their little beds. It didn’t help that they were in an unfamiliar place-- the family had to flee and go into hiding. There was no going back home. For the time they stayed there, he and Dis shared a bed also. Not unlike Fili and Kili, they fastened on to each other and refused to let go, crying themselves to sleep.

Thorin brought himself out of the memories when he heard one of the shrubs directly next to him rustle loudly. He quickly dismissed it as a bird and rubbed his tired eyes, only for his fist to return wet. He brought a sleeve up to his eyes and wiped away the tears. It was unbecoming of a prince to be seen displaying such a blatant amount of emotion.

“Your Majesty! You must come quickly, please!”

Stunned, Thorin’s head shot up. A young Man with long, brown hair was running towards him, and stopped when he was right before Thorin.

“What is it? What’s wrong!” Thorin yelled, rising to his feet.

“It’s the little dwarves you were with. The blond and brunet ones! Something’s-- someone’s charmed them, and they--” the Man stammered, picking nervously at his shirt.

“Where are they!?” Thorin asked, nearly hysterical. Something couldn’t be happening to his boys, please!

“This way, please follow me!” the adolescent turned and sprinted away, Thorin on his heels.

When they reached their destination Thorin was greeted by the sight of a circle of students, all pointing and laughing at something. Growling, he shoved his way through them until he reached the front. An unexpected sight confronted him.

On the ground was one black wolf puppy and one golden lion cub, and Thorin just knew. The puppy was yipping loudly, wagging his tail wildly in his excitement. He bounced from student to student with an impressive amount of gusto, immensely enjoying the attention they gave him. The little lion was another story entirely. His tail was between his hind legs, and he kept backing away from everyone, frantically looking around for an escape.

“Fili! Kili! Boys, it’s me! Come here!” Thorin shouted, dropping to his knees. Kili barked twice and scrambled over to him, practically flying into Thorin’s arms. He let out a little howl, causing the crowd to start being raucous once again. Thorin looked to Fili, who was whining in the center and turning in circles, looking for a way out. “Fili!” Thorin pleaded. He stood back up with his puppy secure in his arms, not paying attention to the tail that kept whipping him in the side and stomach, and took a few steps towards the cub. Fili found his chance then, finally seeing an opening between someone’s legs and sprinting through them.

“Fili! _No!_ ” Thorin screamed, rushing through the other side of the circle and not caring that a few hobbits got knocked over in the process. He got through just in time to see the end of Fili’s tail disappearing around the corner. Swearing, Thorin followed him around the corner, but he was already gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Sigrid shut the large red door behind her carefully, listening to it click. Almost immediately, she found that she had to duck for the first several feet of the small hallway before it opened up into a the grand library. She could see to other floors above her, and it made her smile to know that she had an almost infinite amount of choices when it came to picking something to read. But… she didn’t know where to begin. She looked up through a skylight she could tell that it was the late morning, and she had the day to herself, so she had plenty of time.

She decided to head left first, down a random fiction aisle, then on to another, and another. Sigrid didn’t have the first clue what to look for! With a huff of breath, she closed her eyes, spun around, and reached out to the first book she touched. When she opened her eyes, she yanked it off the shelf and put it under her arm. She did this several other times in random places throughout the library. When Sigrid figured she had enough for the time being (though is eight books ever really enough for some light reading?) while on the second floor, she looked for the closest sitting place she could find.

The one she happened upon couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a nice plush armchair nestled nicely in a corner, it had a tiny side table right next to it with a lamp, and the chair even had its own ottoman! _Yes_ , Sigrid thought, _this will do quite nicely_.

Almost skipping over to it, she placed her books onto the side table and settled in. It didn’t take long until she was completely enthralled in her books, and the tales of Gideon, Felix and Atticus. She reached the end rather abruptly, and she was almost sad when the next book she picked up wasn’t another part of the series. She had to abandon that second book though, it was in Elvish and poor Sigrid couldn’t imagine herself ever being able to decipher its contents.

Before she knew it, she had reached the second to last book she’d grabbed, and it was like nothing she’d ever read before. She didn’t even know these types of books ever existed, or even allowed in a school library! She was still very much into it though, either way. It wasn’t until she readjusted her position, taking her feet off the ottoman and placing them back on the ground. Her right foot stepped on a foreign object, but she didn’t pay it too much mind until it tugged away from her and screeched loudly.

Starling rather badly, Sigrid slammed shut _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ and dropped it back on the table and pulled her legs up to her chest, her heart hammering fiercely. She stayed that way for a couple of minutes, waiting anxiously to see if anything else would happen. When it didn’t she decided to investigate. Peering over the edge of her chair, she looked around the floor area, seeing nothing. Something in the corner of her eye twitched though, and she shot her gaze to it. It was the small flap at the very bottom of the armchair that hid the space between the chair and the floor. Ever so slowly, she reached out to it, and with her pointer finger, carefully lifted the flap up.

Bending far enough over so she could see, she pulled out her wand slowly and muttered lumos quietly, pointing it into the gap. She squinted and searched around until she finally found what she was not really looking for. It was a tail! … ? It was flicking every few seconds, which made it the obvious source of the chair’s movement. Sigrid followed it with her wand until she reached the animal it belonged to, a tiny lion cub. It was staring right at her. She stared back. The two upheld the contest until Sigrid reluctantly had to look away to blink for just a split second. When she looked back, the kitten had curled away from her, now a small ball in the corner.

“Who are you, little one?” Sigrid found herself asking. In her mind it had been more of a rhetorical question, but apparently the little lion took it differently. First his ears twitched slightly, then he bent his head back until he was staring at her almost upside down. Sigrid giggled, it made her think of her own cat back at home.

“What are you doing here? Are you hiding from someone?” Sigrid asked him gently. “Why?”

The lion cub let out a small chuff, then turned back away from her and sighed. Mustering up some courage, Sigrid slid out of the chair and onto the floor to her knees. She reached under the chair and placed her hand on her little furry companion, stroking him. He jumped in surprise, then struggled to roll onto his feet, having to crouch in the tight space. He stared at her intently. Undeterred by this behavior, Sigrid went ahead and began scratching under his chin, his ears and rubbing the side of his face. It was the ultimate weakness of all cats, and sure enough the little lion cub succumbed to her attentions and began rubbing his face into her hand, his eyes closed in contentment.

Then, while she had a chance, Sigrid whispered _“Accio lion!”_ and held out her hands to him. Meowing loudly and frantically, the poor thing panicked as he suddenly began sliding towards the strange girl. Safely in her hands, Sigrid struggled to her feet with the unhappy lion cub, holding him to her chest. She tried to calm him down with gentle yet firm strokes down his back, and after a few moments he began to relax.

Smiling, Sigrid decided that it’d probably be best if she found an authority figure to see what to do with her little friend. She slowly began her descent back to the ground floor, soothing him when he began to act up again.

“It’s alright, we’ll find where you belong-- oh,” looking up, Sigrid noticed that she had spent almost the entire day reading! The sun was long gone and now the moon had taken its place. “I didn’t mean for it to get so late! My Da will have my skin for this,” she told him, picking up her pace. The cub looked up at her and meowed.

As she hurried through the halls, she’d idly scratch him or pet him, and make offhand comments about nothing in particular (“I hope I didn’t miss dinner,” “Oh that flower’s pretty,” “Bain better not be getting into any trouble while we’re here!”). Every time a bug would fly by, the little lion couldn’t help himself and would swat at it, making Sigrid laugh. This seemed to spur him on.

They had just reached the north tower when an Elvish girl confronted them.

“Lady Sigrid, you found the prince!” she cheered.

“It’s just Sigrid, please. And I’m sorry what? A prince?” Sigrid balked. “If you mean this little one here then I am afraid you’ve been mixed up! He’s just--”

“Earlier today someone cursed him and his brother! This one has been on the run all day, and his minders are at their wit’s ends! Please, follow me. The other little prince is in the hospital wing, being turned back to his normal self. He’ll be glad to see his brother again,”

Biting her lip, Sigrid looked down at the lion. “Is this true?” she asked him. He just meowed sadly and hid his face in her arms. Sighing, Sigrid nodded. “Alright, let’s go then,”

When the elf guide led her into the healing ward, the first thing she saw was a small circle of dwarves standing around one of the beds. She recognized one of them from the Daily Prophet the day after the World Cup. She followed the elf over to them, clearing her throat when they didn’t notice her.

“Fili!”

A tiny boy with lengthy dark hair leaped off the bed and flung himself towards Sigrid’s legs. He seemed to be completely back to normal, as the elf had said… except for the wolfish ears atop his head and the fluffy tail that went along with it. It was wagging wildly as he stared up at her.

“You found Fili!” he shouted with joy. He hopped up and down with his arms reaching towards his brother, until finally Sigrid gave in and slowly handed the boy the small cat in her arms. She shivered at the sudden lack of warmth against her chest, but smiled as the boy snuggled his brother tightly against his chest, Fili desperately trying to escape.

“Kili. Give him to me, you’re hurting him,”

The new voice had Sigrid looking up, straight at the prince. She was surprised to find him staring straight at her. She blushed, and curtsied slightly.

“Your Majesty,” she mumbled.

He looked down briefly, then to Fili in his arms. “Please, none of that. Just Thorin.” he told her. “Thank you for bringing my nephew back to me. We’ve been frantic looking for him. I don’t know what I would do if I lost him!” he lamented.

Sigrid’s blush renewed itself on her cheeks. “It was no problem at all! He made for a very fine companion, no trouble at all,” she watched Kili try to reach up and pet his brother. “Are the ears and tail… permanent?” she asked Thorin. He shook his head.

“No, thankfully. Madame Leafcutter said it’d last anywhere from a day to a few months, there’s no real telling when--”

“Sigrid! There you are! Da’s been lookin’ all over for you, you know! We have to go eat dinner, let’s go!”

Sigrid turned around and saw her littlest sibling, Tilda, marching right to her, a determined look on her face. She grabbed Sigrid’s hand and immediately began pulling her away from the dwarves, not paying them any mind.

“Tilda! Calm down!” she snapped. She looked over her shoulder to Thorin, smiling weakly. “Goodbye! I hope things work out for you!” was all she managed before Tilda shut the doors behind them.

* * *

 

Sort of just realized this is pretty much a filler chapter. I don't think I meant for that to happen... things will pick up the next one I swear, the champions are going to be chosen :D

Please please please comment if you liked it! They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside u3u ♥

 


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